


the peaceable fruit

by cracktheglasses (cormallen)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Arranged Marriage, Domestic Discipline, Fictional religious tenets, Humiliation, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Senator Kylo Ren, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 11:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cormallen/pseuds/cracktheglasses
Summary: Minutes ago, Hux had been in the Senate audience chamber, listening to his husband passionately champion Coruscanti workers, and insist that access to the rakghoul vaccine should never be determined by income levels.Now, that very same man wants to drag him across his lap, and spank him like a child.





	the peaceable fruit

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this KHK prompt](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/152882961483/kylo-and-hux-are-in-the-star-wars-equivalent-of-a): Kylo and Hux are in the Star Wars equivalent of a Christian domestic discipline relationship.
> 
> Title from Hebrews 12:11: _no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless, afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it_
> 
> [@agent-nemesis](http://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com), I hope you like this!

“Dearest, it’s Taungsday,” Kylo says once their speeder has taken off and the driver is merging with the busy Coruscant traffic. In the bench seat across, Hux feels his belly tighten, and it’s got nothing to do with the sudden acceleration as the speeder banks into a fast travel lane. Kylo presses a button and the partition goes up, darkens, giving them absolute privacy; his jeweled hair combs gleam icily, catching scant light. 

He pats his black and silver satin lap. 

“Armitage. Come here.”

“Now?” Hux asks, relieved that his voice is only a little shaky. “This is the first time we’ve seen each other in almost a week. It’s all been campaign appearances, your Senate address. And the gala’s going to go all evening, and -- didn’t you -- didn’t you say you missed me?”

The penciled arches of Kylo’s brows draw together; he crooks his mouth, the traditional lip paint a heavy red swipe in the center. 

“Of course, I’ve missed you, dearest, dreadfully, the entire time I’ve been off-planet. I can’t tell you how happy I was that you came to see me speak. I didn’t think there’d be time, with all of your duties, but it means so much, to know you were in the audience. What did you think? I made almost all of the changes you suggested.”

“Very impressive,” Hux admits, with grudging pride. “Especially towards the end, that parallel you drew between the current Tarisian refugees and the Alderaanian diaspora, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house. I wouldn’t lean on that too heavily when you’re stumping, though; that’s not going to be as effective after the first time. And, well, the Senate may go for the past comparisons. Everyone else is going to want to hear about your proposed changes for the future.”

Kylo takes quick notes on the ever-present holopad he’s materialized from somewhere within his robes; after he’s finished, it vanishes just as quickly. 

“Thank you. Truly.” He spreads his knees a bit, and smooths the satin down. “Now, come here. Let me take care of this. Of you.”

Hux digs his nails into his palms. The urge to scream, to rage, to beat his fists into Kylo’s chest rises up, strong; to slide open the speeder doors and take his chances on the nearest landing platform. 

“Kylo, please,” he tries once more, and feels Kylo’s strong grip close around his wrist.

“Armitage. We haven’t seen each other in days, like you said, and it’s not going to get any easier for a while yet. Tonight’s gala is going to be exhausting, and I want whatever time we have after to be about us. Wouldn’t you like that, dearest, to relax together for once? To hold each other?”

 _To fuck_ , Hux mentally finishes for him, and watches Kylo’s face twitch minutely. Nevertheless, he continues.

“I don’t want to have to do this then. But it is Taungsday. So, for the last time, come here, and let me take care of it now, so I won’t have to add any more strikes.”

Hux sighs. 

Just minutes ago, he was being pressed gently to his husband’s wide chest, encircled by strong, careful arms, Kylo’s soft mouth at his ear whispering, _Hux, Armitage, darling, you’re here, I missed you, I missed you so much_. Minutes before that, he’d been in the Senate audience chamber, listening to his husband passionately champion Coruscanti workers and Tarisian refugees, defend the rights of Chandrilans to their own language, and insist that access to the rakghoul vaccine should never be determined by income levels. 

Now, that very same man wants to drag him across his lap, and spank him like a child. 

Just like he does every Taungsday. 

Hux takes a slow, deep breath, resigned, and undoes his belt, then his zipper. Kylo smiles as he begins to pull his trousers down his thighs.

“There you are. Good.”

Pants pooling uncomfortably around his knees, Hux climbs over to Kylo’s seat, scrabbles forward to maneuver himself into the all-too-familiar position on Kylo’s lap. He sucks his stomach in a bit as he stretches out, flattens his hands on the leather in front of him. He stares resolutely at the speeder door, the metal handles, the wavering squares of city lights coming through the small window. It’s humiliating, this part and what comes next, allowing this to happen to him, time and again, permitting Kylo to go on believing this instruction, this care, as he calls it, has any place in their marriage. 

A warm, heavy hand cups over his backside, stroking him gently through the thin cloth of his briefs. 

“Lift up for me a moment,” Kylo says, and Hux feels his face go flaming hot as he wiggles up, raising his ass into the grip of Kylo’s palm. Kylo hooks a finger under the waistband of his briefs and shimmies them down his cheeks; when he’s got Hux as bare as he likes, he lets go. The elastic snaps into his thighs with an audible crack; it doesn’t hurt, not yet, leaving only a tingling buzz on his skin, but the sound of it echoes too loudly in Hux’s ears.

Kylo shifts, spreading his knees more to give Hux room to settle; his hand moves to Hux’s hip, pushing softly to guide him back down. The smooth satin of his gown is cool under Hux’s already overheated skin. Hux sucks his lower lip between his teeth, biting down in anticipation as Kylo’s hand lifts, but can’t help the mortifying, pathetic squeak that escapes his mouth as the first hit lands, aimed perfectly at his right cheek. 

Reading over this part in their marriage contract, he hadn’t understood, not at first. According to the rules of the Church of the Force, Kylo was to be considered the head of their newly minted family unit. That much, Hux had already expected before the wedding even took place. Bristling about it had been pointless, important as this marriage of theirs was both to the Order and the Republic. Kylo’s mother, significantly better placed in galactic affairs than Brendol Hux, would have arranged for a union that strengthened her son, but hardly at the expense of any agency or autonomy. What Hux hadn’t realized, until long after the ring ceremony, the signatures on the license, the exchange of money and prestige, was just what dubious responsibilities familial leadership entailed. Certainly not that they included what Kylo called maintenance and instruction.

He’d prepared for catechism, for communal prayer; those, too, would be expected, but -- 

“ -- maintenance spankings,” he had repeated, incredulous, staring into Kylo’s earnest eyes, the lids accented with dark liner and smoky, iridescent shadow. The effect was, admittedly, stunning; Kylo’s eyes glimmered, echoing the crystals threaded through his glossy black hair, braided back and wound atop his head like a crown. 

“Once a week would be a good place to start, and we can adjust, depending on your needs. You can pick the day, if you like,” Kylo had offered, assuring him this was, in fact, a long-standing practice of his family’s faith rather than an elaborate prank. “It’s an ancient tradition. Everyone in the family is expected to comply.”

“You don’t seriously mean to tell me that even General Organa submits to this sort of treatment?” Hux had protested, resisting the urge to withdraw his hand from his new husband’s grip, but Kylo squeezed his fingers in reassurance.

“My mother? Oh, well, no. I suppose, if you are uncomfortable with it coming from me, it would be reasonable for her to administer the instruction, as the matriarch, and the spiritual head of the family at large. It’s a little nontraditional, but not unheard of.”

“I -- no!” Hux had snapped; Kylo squeezed his hand again, and rubbed a thumb lightly over his knuckle.

“It’ll be me, then. Armitage,” he’d said, fixing Hux with a suddenly weighty stare. “I know our relationship was a necessity. Maybe it wouldn’t have been your first choice, if it hadn’t been insisted upon. But I hope, with time, you will come to appreciate it as much as I do.”

 _Appreciate_ , Hux repeats in his head as Kylo lands a second blow on the sensitive, tender meat of his ass, hard enough to stop his breath in his throat. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to pull away, like he once used to. The first few times, he’d reflexively covered himself with his hands, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Kylo’s soft voice delivering a disappointed “Armitage, please stop that,” his tone scolding and concerned all at once.

There is no reprieve, whether he holds himself perfectly still or not. Kylo continues spanking him with a steady hand, alternating between both cheeks, each hit leaving them hot and sparking. Hux buries his face in the leather seat and pants, shoulders quivering. The heat is building in his stinging, sore backside, coiling through the base of his spine, up his back, spiraling out until it tingles through his entire body, from the tips of his fingers to somewhere in the pit of his belly. He moans loudly, and can’t help squirming in Kylo’s lap, the sleek satin sliding under the grind of his hips. It’s no longer cool, warmed up by his body, but the delicate pull of it against his thighs, the bottom of his belly, is still a tantalizing contrast to the harsh slaps Kylo delivers to his poor ass, sharp echoes like little thunderclaps in the cramped confines of the speeder. 

“Please,” he begs, his voice scraping at the inside of his throat, the heat washing over him in a thick, suffocating wave. Kylo’s hand lands again and again into what feels like the center of the blaze; Hux’s entire body flexes, tenses, like he is about to fall apart, fingers scraping reflexively at the seat. His breath is ragged, wheezing, a whimper escaping his throat on every other exhale, his thighs are shaking, on the verge of collapse.

The blows stop coming suddenly, though it takes Hux’s overwhelmed mind a few moments to catch up; he is still tense, tingling throughout, and his ass is raw, burning, the phantom feel of Kylo’s hands still crackling through his skin. 

“That’s it, dearest, that’s it,” Kylo soothes, gathering him up. He pulls Hux into the comforting circle of his arms, and rubs his back in gentle circles. Hux presses his face into Kylo’s silky, embroidered chest and sniffles. This, he thinks, this is the most humiliating, unbearable part of it all, clinging to Kylo’s shoulder and letting him comb his fingers delicately through Hux’s hair. 

“Thank you,” he says, muffled, into the bodice of Kylo’s gown; Kylo strokes the top of his head in response.

“You did so well,” Kylo tells him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hux sniffles again, rubbing his cheek into Kylo’s chest, and holds on to Kylo harder. 

After a few minutes, his heartbeat no longer frantic, he lifts his hips and helps Kylo pull his briefs back up. He hisses, teeth clamping down hard on his bottom lip, as the underwear settles over his sore ass and his twitching, full balls, his hard, leaking cock. Kylo pays it no attention, other than taking care not to brush up against Hux’s groin as he does up his trousers. 

This, Hux mentally corrects himself, this, then, is the most humiliating part. 

A handkerchief is produced. Kylo dabs at Hux’s face, wiping away sweat and the traces of moisture from his eyes. After Hux is sorted, Kylo examines his own makeup in a small compact mirror, humming as he rubs at an invisible imperfection. 

Hux gives him a scrutinizing look. 

Kylo’s hair is still impeccably arranged, the jeweled combs keeping his curls in place; the neckline of his gown is slightly askew, the lace folded down, but even as Hux watches, Kylo pulls at one embroidered strap, then the other, letting them settle better on his wide shoulders.

“You should redo your mouth,” Hux tells him, reaching for the console with his travel case. “It’s not smudged, but the red ought to stand out more.”

“You’re right,” Kylo nods, accepting the proffered lipstick as the speeder slows, pulling up to the arrivals line. “Thank you, dearest. What would I do without you?”

**Author's Note:**

> [shame me on tumblr](http://cracktheglasses.tumblr.com), etc, etc


End file.
